


White Noise

by Rei (RoarOfTheEarth)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 01:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19074718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoarOfTheEarth/pseuds/Rei
Summary: They’d been on the Coernix Bypass, off to the side. The trench, if he was thinking about it right, was actually a crag. Taelpar Crag to be exact, which meant he was absolutelyfucked.





	White Noise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eussoros](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eussoros/gifts).



> For anyone reading this going “wtf is this?” welcome to Pelnica, the ship we didn’t know we needed.
> 
> I was going to add more tags but my phone refuses to let me so... I'll add more when I go home from work lol.

# White Noise

* * *

_And if I listen I can hear you on the radio._

_In that bright, white noise._

* * *

There hadn’t been anything special about the mission, just a quick look into some Imperial sightings. What his group had found when they reached the Coernix Bypass was an ambush. The first few troopers they took out without a problem. It was the mechs that had them turning tail.

Pelna had ordered the retreat even before Drautos’ voice broke over their comms telling them to get out of there. With four mechs and a plethora of shock troopers on their asses, they were having a hard time losing them.

Khara liked his squad. A lot of them were younger than he was, Galahdian; but didn’t remember the war that had been fought before coming to Insomnia. They didn’t know what they had lost. He did, and he knew what he fought for now. That was why when Luche lagged behind, he doubled back to his side. Why he’d grinned at the younger man whose eyebrows had furrowed in confusion. Why he hadn’t paid attention to the yelling over the comm as he let himself warp across the distance to the quickly approaching troops and mechs.

He hit the first group of troopers hard, setting off a fire spell that came to life like a volcanic eruption. The second group had a mech. He took advantage of it, using it as a shield to attack the troopers surrounding it. His first mistake was continuing to use the mech as a shield. His second mistake was believing for a moment the other mechs wouldn’t fire on the first. They did. All three of them did. At once. He warped but felt the heat burn across his skin even as it burst into crystal dust, carrying him far away from the explosion. He hit the ground, fingers winding around his dagger hilt as he rolled. His intention was to roll to his feet, but his feet met air.

He dropped like a rock over the edge, hitting the side of the cliff face. It jarred his arm, wrenching the dagger from his hand. He rolled, hit another sharp rock and forced himself to curl up as tightly as he could to try and protect his head and sides. He slid slightly along a slope then met open air again and had the vague thought that it was entirely unfair that he would have to fall down the world’s highest cliff.

He hit his head twice on the way down, slid along another slope before finally, he rolled to a stop at the bottom. He was dizzy and light headed from the fall and when he tried to move his head it felt like someone was happily smashing a hammer over it. His vision swam but he didn’t think he’d broken anything. It was when he moved his leg that he retracted that thought.

White hot fire raced up along his calf and he had to bite back a scream for fear that he’d be found by the Niffs up above, no matter how far up they were. He had to take long, deep breaths to keep from vomiting on the rocky floor, focusing instead on some of the strange rock formations near him. The rock was dark, like graphite, but infused with blue crystal that glowed faintly. Looking further down he realized he was in a trench of some sort, the walls tall and littered with rocky arches and other formations made of similar dark rock and crystal. The sky was stretched out along the top, disappearing into the distance. It seemed unrealistically far away, and looking up from where he’d fallen, he realized just how lucky he was to be alive.

Well, alive for now. Looking back down, he forced himself to look at the damage done to his leg. His pants were ripped in places, the right one particularly frayed so that he could see the nasty gash that started at the back of his knee and carefully sliced its way along his calf in an angry red arc where a rock had ripped through both his pants and the leather of his boot. He couldn’t see any bone, but it was bleeding quite freely and if he didn’t do something about it quick, he’d be even less likely to get his way out of this mess.

Breathing in deep and hoping he didn’t pass out, Pelna moved and carefully pulled his jacket off. He was rather lucky the Kingsglaive were secretly kinky bastards and really liked belts. He carefully uncinched one from the leather breastplate on his jacket and ripped his shirt off his back. Tearing his shirt into strips, he carefully wrapped the wound, using the length of the belt to wind around his calf until he could secure it. That stemmed the blood flow, hopefully giving it time to scab over. If he was lucky. He wasn’t quite sure how long that would hold out, however.

With most of the immediate danger gone, Pelna looked around his jacket until he found a pack of cigarettes and his communicator. Giving it a once over, he realized it wasn’t busted and nearly had a heart attack when he almost dropped it on the rocky floor. Switching it on hurriedly, he pushed the earpiece against his ear and listened. Only static hissed into his ear, but he tried anyway.

“Khara, checking in,” he choked as he pressed the button. “Can anyone hear me?”

When nothing but white noise fizzed in his ear, he tried again. Still nothing. Spouting off every curse he knew in Galahdian and Lucian, Pelna almost gave in to the childish inclination to toss the communicator away from him. Logic prevailed however and he kept the small black box and earpiece close at hand. The fall hadn’t broken the damn thing. His luck really was holding out.

Pulling his jacket back on and buttoning it up was a chore, but he managed. Despite the heat of the Cleigne area, the shadows of the trench he was in were cold and unforgiving. It was bad enough he had already sacrificed one layer of clothing to make a bandage. Leaning back against the rocky wall, he closed his eyes and listened to the sounds around him, which were eerily quiet save the trickle of distant water. Mapping his fall out in his mind proved a little helpful in keeping it off other things, like dying at the bottom of an oversized ditch.

They’d been on the Coernix Bypass, off to the side. The trench, if he was thinking about it right, was actually a crag. Taelpar Crag to be exact, which meant he was absolutely fucked because _no one_ came this way.

He felt the fight drain out of him, leaving him cold and tired. Lighting a cigarette, he glanced up at the sky again and wondered how long it would take the daemons to find him. They liked shitholes like this, right? He sighed out a breath of smoke and closed his eyes. At least if he could eventually get up and walk there was water nearby. The river that connected to Lucinia Sound flowed this way before emptying out into the Cygillian Ocean. He wasn’t sure he could make the trek towards either end, however. Coernix had the distinct pleasure of being slap-dab in the middle of the damn crag. And with his leg, he’d likely not make it far. Lestallum was close, maybe if he kept trying his communicator he’d raise someone on the radio. He doubted it, however. The Kingsglaive used a built-in frequency. No other radios would pick it up unless specifically programmed.

Rubbing his face, Pelna relented and laid his head back, watching smoke trail from the tip of his cigarette towards the sky. If he slept, at least he might possibly have the strength to attack any daemons that came towards him.

* * *

He woke to find himself shrouded in darkness. The area around him stayed dark, nearly pitch black until his eyes slowly adjusted. The glow the crystals were giving off lit the area more as well, chasing away shadows where they had once been.

Taking a deep breath, Pelna clenched his teeth and listened carefully for the noise that had woken him. It was scraping, like the sound of something being dragged along the rocky ground. He was beginning to think he’d just been dreaming until he heard it again. Tilting his head slightly to the side, he watched his surroundings, fingers gripping the hilt of his remaining dagger. His magic stores were high enough he could summon some fire or ice if need be, but he wanted to cling to that magic for as long as he could.

The scraping came again, in the distance. Then he saw it.

It wasn’t like any daemon he’d ever seen. It was tall, _too_ tall. The lights from the crystals played off the metal of armor on its chest, arm, and masked face. The rest of its body was lit by strange purple light that seemed to be coming off the otherworldly being. The sound was from the oversized sword it carried, the metal scraping across the ground but then it hefted the giant blade over its shoulder with such ease, Pelna was sure it didn’t _need_ to drag it.

Then it turned and glowing red eyes stared at him.

Pelna froze, staring back at the thing he was fairly certain wasn’t a daemon. It didn’t have miasma sliding up from its skin. This thing seemed almost human. Or something that had once been human. It didn’t move towards him, staring at him instead with a head that was slightly tilted. And then it took a step towards him and Pela quietly flipped the fuck out.

He stayed very still as the thing walked closer, watching it warily. He supposed if he had to die, at least he could go out with a rather fiery bang if need be. His hand tightened on his dagger and he forced himself to hold still. His leg was still hurting badly and he didn’t want to jostle the wound anymore than he had to. Maybe his luck would hold and the thing couldn’t actually see him, it was just moving around in the shadows like some ghostly dick.

Only it stopped when it neared him and the strange purple glow that it was casting illuminated the area around him. There was no hiding. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, staring up at the thing quietly, waiting.

Red eyes stared at him. Watching. Waiting. And then, as if puzzling out some unasked question, the creature tilted its head back and looked upwards. Overhead, like a rip in the ground, the sky peered down at them. Little dots of stars littered the strip of sky that was visible. Pelna followed the creature's gaze, staring upwards before he looked back at it, able to see the long strands of white hair that fell from under the hood over its head.

Was it human after all? It didn’t seem like it.

The thing turned back to look at him and he froze up again. With its singular arm, it pointed upwards. “You fell.” It wasn’t a question, and its voice was a hard thing to understand. It sounded like it was speaking different languages all at once. Pelna had to strain to make out the words. He didn’t bother answering since the thing wasn’t asking him anything after all. It was still giving him a once over and seemed to pause on his leg, taking in the haphazard bandaging he’d done. It looked for a moment more before turning its back towards him, almost as if it had deemed him unworthy of its attention, and walked away. Pelna watched it until it disappeared, fading into red dust.

Breathing out heavily, Pelna slumped back into the rocks, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. Taking a chance, he pushed the comm into his ear and listened. Again only static greeted him. He cursed and pulled the earpiece out, tucking it back into his jacket.

“I’ll try again in the morning,” he told himself, closing his eyes again.

If he woke up in the morning.

* * *

He was cold.

He shivered and tried to open his eyes but couldn’t find the willpower to do so. But he needed to because somewhere in the back of his mind he could hear his radio and someone was talking. It wasn’t just static.

He opened his eyes.

The belt he’d fastened around his leg had slid down during the night, coming unwound from his calf. The wound had graciously decided it needed to open back up and was now seeping blood onto the ground. That explained why he was cold, he supposed. The voices his brain kept telling him about were coming from his pocket.

With fingers that didn’t care much to listen, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the comm earpiece. The voice sounded again, a woman that sounded pissed off. Anyone was fine at this point. At least they’d know he’d been alive for a little bit before bleeding out like a useless piece of shit at the bottom of the Crag.

_“Of all the idiotic reasons to have you come to Lestallum,”_ the woman’s voice buzzed on the line. It was far away, he realized. She was either just in range, or nearly out of it.

“Hello?” Gods his voice sounded horrible; like someone had shoved a rock down his throat. Then again, he hadn’t spoken or had anything to drink in a day now. Or had it been longer than that? He wasn’t exactly sure how many hours had passed by now.

The other end of the radio went dead silent and Pelna felt the claws of terror sink into his spine. Had she gone out of range before he could speak?

_”Hold on, I can hear someone on our frequency,”_ that voice said again, hissing softly at someone else who was further away because they weren’t being picked up on his channel. _”Who the hell is this? How do you have this frequency?”_

The static wasn’t as bad now, though he couldn’t tell if the signal was getting closer or not. “My name is Pelna,” he mumbled, blinking because his brain was trying to blank out on him and he couldn’t let it do that, not now. “Pelna Khara. I’m from the Kingsglaive, from Insomnia.”

There was silence for a moment, then the woman repeated his name. _”Where are you, Khara?”_

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “I think at the bottom of Taelpar Crag? I fell…” He wanted to close his eyes and go back to sleep. He should probably try to stop his leg from bleeding but he couldn’t find it in him to sit up to try.

_”Are you hurt?”_

“Yeah.” His voice slurred a little and he frowned. “Leg’s kinda fucked up.” She mumbled several curses and he felt the corners of his mouth quirk upwards into a smile. “You have a nice voice…” More slurring, but he didn’t care at this point. If he was dying, at least it was with a nice voice talking to him.

_”Keep him talking,”_ a new voice joined the channel, more static with this one, further away. _”They were at the Bypass right?”_

The woman spouted off coordinates, ones he vaguely remembered as his mission objective. He closed his eyes, listening to the exchange between the two, letting his mind drift. At least it wasn’t so fucking bone-chillingly quite anymore. Even if he was still freezing.

_”Khara!”_

Plena jerked forward slightly and hissed a little under his breath. “Fuck, yeah. Sorry, I’m here.” He hadn’t been, that was the problem. He’d almost fallen asleep. Or he had, he wasn’t sure.

_”Talk to me,”_ the woman’s voice ordered. _”Stay awake until the Marshal can get to you.”_

“Marshal?” he mumbled, thinking that over. “Ya mean the Crownsguard commander?”

_”The same,”_ she confirmed. _“My name is Monica.”_

Monica. He liked that name. He’d have to buy her flowers if he didn’t die.

_”Talk to me Khara. How bad is your leg?”_ she asked, using it to start a conversation. Probably one she wasn’t going to want to have once she figured out he was pretty much dead.

“I thought I had it bandaged good,” he grumbled, glancing down at his leg sullenly. “Hurts to move it, wound opened back up.”

_”Bleeding?”_

“Yeah.”

Monica started cursing softly and Pelna felt himself smile a little. _”Cor I think he’s bleeding out.”_

_”I can tell,”_ the monotone voice from before hissed to life over the comm. _”He’s been slurring his speech for a bit.”_

_”How fast can you get to him?”_

The Marshal snorted over the comm and Pelna could vaguely make out the sound of metal hitting something. _”Busy.”_

Monica sighed but turned her attention immediately back to Pelna, her voice taking on a slightly lighter note. _”Alright Khara, you’re going to talk until the Marshal gets there. Tell me a story or something interesting.”_

Something interesting? He didn’t really have any interesting stories. He wasn’t a very interesting guy. “You can tell Lazarus I’m gonna haunt his ass and kick him in his shin,” he murmured with a low chuckle.

_”You’re not going to die.”_ She said it with such conviction in her voice, Pelna almost believed her. Almost. When he didn’t respond for a few minutes, Monica tried a different approach, her voice buzzing to life over the comm as she spoke to him instead. _”Okay, where are you from? Insomnia?”_

“Galahd,” he answered and closed his eyes. “Came with the rest of the refugees.”

_”Ah.”_ Another, shorter pause. _”Any family?”_

“Nah.” He hated how floaty is voice sounded. Distant and not his own. “Sorry, not much of an interesting guy, huh? This is a lousy first date.” The sound that answered him sounded kind of like a choked off laugh. Well, if nothing else at least he was still funny. “Had a brother,” he continued and frowned at himself for sharing.

_”Where is he now?”_

“Died back home,” he sighed. “Maybe I’ll get to tell him I’m sorry.” Everyone from Galahd had their own horror stories. Some of them were okay with sharing them, like Libertus who talked about his mother fondly, or Sonitus who liked to talk about how he and his father had run one of the better blacksmith shops in the village. But others like Nyx or Luche. They kept quiet. Nyx would smile and laugh with his friends, listen to their stories but there was always a sadness about the other man that he kept locked away. Pelna had seen it in his eyes.

Everyone had their horror stories. Some kept them locked away like him. So why was he sharing now? Dying was a bad excuse.

_”Why do you need to tell him you’re sorry?”_

She was trying to keep him talking, he knew that. She wasn’t interested in the story. She’d forget about it the moment he finished dying. So would it hurt to tell her? To get the weight off his chest? Did it mean salvation? He snorted at the thought.

_”Pelna?”_

She used his first name.

“He’d been sick,” he answered finally. “Stuck in his bed for a few days. I was looking after him.” He was still slurring his words, but concentrating on saying everything right was helping. He was having trouble concentrating now though and slipped on a few words. “When the Empire attacked, I was chopping wood. We lived out on the edge of the village, near the forest. Dad used to work lumber for a living.” He paused, his mind reliving that day in sharp, nasty detail. “They came from up north, like a wave of machines. I fought back but,” he let his words float there for a moment. “I was barely fifteen, holding an ax meant for chopping wood. I didn’t stand much of a chance. I raised the alarm for the village but…” Warmth slid down his cheeks, and he reached up to touch one, his fingers coming back wet. He used the cuff of his jacket sleeve to wipe away the dampness. “They destroyed the house,” he continued, once his voice stopped wavering.

There was another stretch of silence on the other end, and Pelna wondered if Monica had tossed her headpiece off to the side. Then, like a whisper, she spoke. _“That wasn’t your fault.”_ He wanted to argue but didn’t have the strength to try, so just grunted instead. _”I’m serious,”_ she told him again. _”Your home was the first to be attacked I gather?”_ when he mumbled an affirmation, she continued. _”Pelna, you probably saved so many lives just by doing that. I bet your brother would have gotten angry with you if you’d tried to save him first. Or the two of you would have died together.”_ She paused and huffed. _”That explains the report about the ambush. About how you went back to save Lazarus and tried to get all the attention on you so the others could escape.”_

Plena snorted but smiled faintly as he closed his eyes, leaning into the rocks. They must have cut places into his back so they fit better. They were oddly comfortable now. “Maybe,” he mumbled. He was still cold but didn’t feel cold anymore. It was an odd sensation, one he wasn’t sure was a good thing. But at least he didn’t _feel_ like he was freezing. He was still shivering though. “If I make it out of this,” he sighed. “I owe you dinner.”

_”Deal.”_

He laughed softly and listened to her voice as she spoke to him again, even as his brain started to produce white noise and hiss quietly at him. Now and then, as his body relaxed into the stones, he could hear her say his name. He’s hum softly in response, but couldn’t make out much of what she was saying. It was nice though, listening to her voice as his mind faded.

It was a nice memory to cling to.

* * *

He was warm. That realization dawned on him slowly. He let the feeling of it sink in, enjoying the warmth as it soaked into his bones. He’d been so cold before it was nice to feel this warm. He was on something soft too. Far softer than the stone ground he’d fallen on, but anything was softer than that had been. This was nice, though. He was sunk into it, with something soft and thick under his head. Slowly he started becoming aware of his surroundings, the hum of machines, a gentle beeping sound. The sound of voices though they were very distant. A bird that seemed determined to make itself known just by the shrill screech it was releasing.

As sounds came, so did more feeling. It wasn’t just softness that he was laying on or warmth. He could feel something laying across his skin, something else attached to his chest. His mind was in a fog; like he was stepping through a thick veil of mist whenever it ventured towards the leg he was sure had been wounded. It felt oddly void; as if nothing were there. When he attempted to move his fingers he felt them twitch. When he tried the same with his toes, he felt nothing.

Well if he lost his leg the afterlife was going to _suck_. How was he supposed to enjoy it with only one leg?

“I think he’s coming around,” a voice said near him, oddly clear since the voices he’d heard before were muffled. Or maybe it was because he was starting to force his way through his foggy surroundings? He tried to open his eyes, failed then tried again. They barely opened a sliver before he slammed them back shut, grunting when light tore at his retinas. He tried again once he could see light behind his eyelids, finding it a bit more bearable this time.

He was in a blue room, the walls painted light blue while the trim and bedding he was laying on was white. Hovering nearby was a nurse who was looking at his face expectantly. As soon as his eyes focused on her, she smiled at him.

“Well good morning,” she said cheerily, patting his arm. “How many fingers am I holding up?” She held up her thumb and index finger.

Pelna, being the shithead he was, frowned and pursed his lips together. “Is this a trick question?” he mumbled, eyes narrowed.

The nurse smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Pelna Khara.”

“And the date?”

That he hesitated on, mainly because he wasn’t sure how long he’d been in the crag or how long he’d been where he was now. “Um…”

“That one isn’t fair,” a new voice answered for him. A voice he recognized almost immediately because it was the lovely voice he’d heard over the comm. “He was out of it when I was talking to him,” she continued.

The nurse huffed and glanced at him. “What’s your date of birth?” She waited for him to spout it off before asking another. “Birthplace?”

“Galahd,” he grumbled. “And my blood type is B positive.”

“Oh good, we gave you the right type!” she said cheerfully before turning her back to him and fiddling with a machine before heading towards the door. “He’s all yours. Call if you need anything.”

That was when Pelna decided he had died. He was in the Beyond, and it was filled with angels that had the voice of the woman on the radio.

Monica looked absolutely nothing like he’d pictured. That wasn’t a bad thing. Ash brown hair, and maybe a little older than he was, she was a little on the short side but walked like she owned the entire room. He was captivated the moment he laid eyes on her. Which didn’t speak well for him, because he’d already honestly loved her for being the final voice he’d hear before he died. Now he was still alive and in a lot of trouble, it would seem.

“Monica?”

She paused, brown eyes peering at him curiously. Despite the seriousness her face conveyed, there was a spark in the depths of those brown eyes. “Khara?”

He frowned slightly. “Pelna, please.”

She snorted but walked closer. “Feeling better?”

“Am I actually alive, or am I dead and just dreaming I’m alive?”

“If this is a dream, I’d likely answer whatever way you'd want me to,” she offered. When his frown deepened, her brows came together. “What?”

“That wasn’t how I wanted you to answer.”

She laughed, a gentle thing that rolled past her lips like a sigh. “Then I suppose you know what you need to know.”

* * *

As it turned out, he had nearly died twice. Once, after Cor had found him and started hauling him back up to the top of the crag when his heart had decided it really needed to just fucking go hyper speed because he’d been delirious and half dead already. And again after they’d gotten him to Lestallum and to the hospital. A fever had grabbed ahold of him that had left him comatose for three days, one of which the doctors and nurses had spent most of trying to cool him down because his body had turned into a convection oven and was determined to cook him from the inside out.

When he apologized, Monica told him it was nothing, though Cor had been quick to remind her _she_ hadn’t been the one carrying a delusional Glaive on her back. So Pelna addressed his apology to Cor specifically, to which Cor had raised an eyebrow and simply told him not to do it again before leaving the room.

“He doesn’t take appreciation well,” Monica told him after he’d turned his curious gaze to her. “I’ve only ever met one person that can do that.”

Pelna snorted softly but smiled a little. “It's ok, I am sorry I caused you two trouble. I hope you weren’t on a terribly important mission.”

Monica’s lip actually curled slightly. “It was for the King,” she stated and Pelna felt his stomach flip because he’d interrupted a mission for the _King_. “So no, it wasn’t important at all.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” he admitted, staring at her with such a wide-eyed stare she started laughing again, a good honest laugh that actually had her grabbing her side.

“Oh gods, don’t worry about it. We were coming here to pick up a replica sword for the Prince. Something that could have easily been shipped to Insomnia without us traveling here.”

“I’m glad you did,” Pelna mumbled, rubbing his hand over the blankets along his thigh. He still couldn’t feel his leg, but it was there, he could tell that much at least. “Looks like I owe you dinner.”

Monica smiled faintly, one eyebrow arched elegantly. “I will admit,” she said after another, smaller chuckle. “That was one of the more interesting ways I’ve been asked to dinner.”

Pelna mocked a bow despite his awkward arrangement. “I aim to impress, madam.”

* * *

“So you’re telling me,” Nyx mumbled as he munched on a kabob. “That you two met,” he paused long enough to point the stick at Pelna then to Monica. “Because this dumbass,” he hovered on Pelna again. “Decided to go diving into Taelpar Crag, which _this_ dumbass,” he turned his kabob stick on Cor. “Went down to go save?” Pelna and Monica nodded while Cor ever so graciously shot Nyx his middle finger.

Months later and honestly Pelna couldn’t believe the story either.

Nyx stared at the three of them, offended. “Where the hell was I?”

“Wading through Malboro shit in the middle of the Vesperpool if I remember correctly,” Cor murmured as he sat his now finished kabob stick on his plate. “I think I still have the picture saved that you sent me. Covered head to toe in green slime holding one of the thing's babies up by its tentacle… head thing.”

“Those things were cute.”

“You have your Lil Malbuddy charms,” Cor huffed, shooting Nyx a glare who just smiled when anyone else would have cowered in fear.

Pelna leaned over slightly, watching as Nyx made some snide remark to Cor that had the other man turning his full attention on Ulric who just grinned from ear to ear like the cat who’s gotten his canary. “I take it,” he mumbled under his breath. “That this is the exception to the rule you told me about?” He paused, nodding towards Nyx.

Monica snorted. “That would be it.”

“What are you two whispering about?” Ulric asked, leaning over the table towards them.

“We’re deciding on which disgusting pet names to call each other,” Pelna offered. “Would you like to hear a few?”

Nyx’s nose scrunched up and he shivered. “Ew, no thanks.” He practically launched himself out of his chair. “Hey Cor, look they have that Justice Monster game you like.” He was sauntering off towards the arcade machine then, Cor pausing only a moment to peer at the two of them curiously before following Nyx to the pinball machine.

“They totally call each other pet names,” Pelna laughed, glancing at Monica. “Don’t they.”

“I’ve only ever heard them swear at each other,” she answered truthfully. “I believe Nyx’s favorite is ‘fucking shithead’, though I heard him call the Marshal something else in a rather colorful language.”

“Ah,” Pelna laughed. “The Galahdian way.” When she looked at him oddly, he just smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll only call you a disgusting shithead if you really want me to.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please don’t. I don’t think my heart could take that much affection.”

He smiled, glancing over at the two men standing by the pinball machine. Cor was apparently winning because Nyx was pulling a face at him that meant Cor was probably cheating somehow and Nyx couldn’t prove it. “I’ll explain it later,” he told her, chuckling softly. “Shithead.”

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. Uh, I'll try and do a better Pelna/Monica story if the demand is high enough. XD this was a toe in the water and an idea that hit me after Eussoros told me to "do it".
> 
> So I did it. 
> 
> ( ᐛ )و


End file.
